


Fall

by The_Strongest_Hero



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: some blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Strongest_Hero/pseuds/The_Strongest_Hero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each breath scraped and rattled painfully in his lungs. The pavement beneath him was cold and unforgiving. He couldn't remember where he was, or he he'd gotten here. 'I'm going to die.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the DRRR Kink Meme, promt: 'Kida Masaomi tied up and bleeding'

The first thing that registers in Masaomi's mind when he regains consciousness is immense pain. He hurt. Everything hurt. Goddamn he HURT. There's a burning, _throbbing_ pain in his abdomen. Fuck, OUCH. He curls into a tighter ball, as if to protect his agonized stomach, only to realize he can't quite move that way. Something binds his feet together, and trying to curl further into the fetal position produces an acute ache in between his shoulders.

What the hell is going on? He can't seem to remember. The last thing he can recall is walking home with Mikado and Anri, and then things get hazy. He moans around the gag (gag!?) tied around his mouth and squeezes his eyes closed tighter. His head is throb, throb, throbbing and it's so hard to think clearly when everything hurts so fucking much. The familiar sounds of the city resonate around him, reverberating in his aching skull like some kind of annoying alarm reminding him, _hey, your head REALLY fucking hurts_  .

He pulls his arms (tied behind his back, what the _fuck?_ ) closer to his damaged body. Coherent thoughts slip through the grasp of his mind like flowing water, and god damn his stomach hurts too much for thinking beyond the pain. That can wait until later, when his insides decide to stop acting like flames trapped beneath his skin.

Everything hurt. He is only now realizing how cold he is, his thoughts are floating away like clouds, and are just about as easy to catch, and he's absolutely _soaked_ in something far too sticky to only be water.

He feels himself drifting away, and he doesn't fight it. He just wants to sleep, surely things will be better, and make far more sense, after a quick....rest.....


	2. Chapter 2

It's been four days since anyone had last seen Masaomi Kida.

It's not uncommon for Masaomi to skip school. What _is_ unusual is Mikado not hearing from him for so long. He's missed two days of school, and isn't answering his phone at all. Sometimes Masaomi forgets to charge it, sure, not  _that_ weird. It's only when Mikado goes to his friend's apartment and finds it entirely undisturbed, as if Masaomi hasn't been home in days, that he really started to worry.

He's taken to wandering about the city, hoping to run into his exuberant friend, who would cheerily give him a completely obvious explanation Mikado has been too obtuse to consider. Silly him. And then Masaomi would tease him and he'd get embarrassed and everything would be so normal it would be as if nothing happened in the first place. Everything would be okay again.

Because without him around, things are not okay.

There is an uncomfortable and ever present tenseness between him and Sonohara that is never there with Masaomi around. Conversation is limited to shy greetings and forced statements about the weather and grinds to a halt after.

The worry is starting to gnaw away at him in an increasingly unpleasant and persistent way. It makes focusing on schoolwork difficult, and giving any thought to managing the Dollars is neigh out of the question. The more he thinks about it the more he convinces himself something truly atrocious has happened to his friend.

On this particular night, Mikado finds himself wandering into the seedier back alleys of Ikebukuro. The maze of streets and narrow passages is unfamiliar to him, but maybe that's why he chose to search here, despite the lingering danger that seems to emanate from the cold brick walls. Or maybe it is _because_ of the foreboding atmosphere that he decides to head into the unfamiliar territory, leaving the safety of the well lit and crowded streets.

The winding back routes introduced a completely new scene to him. This was a side of the city he'd never before seen. He'd not realized that hidden beneath the city's bright and colorful lights lurked an entirely different world, as if it were a different city entirely.

The passing of young men, proudly wearing the colors of their chosen gang, grows in frequency the deeper he ventures. With each flash of color his heart jumps and he finds himself hunching, making himself as insignificant as possible to avoiding their attention. _Pathetic_. None pay him any mind, too focused on their own problems to worry about a lost boy in a school uniform.

It's not long before Mikado realizes his aimless wandering has gotten him quite lost, and that perhaps drifting about in an unfamiliar part of the city was not such a great idea. He turns to head back in the direction he thinks he'd come from. Not two minutes pass before he' standing in front of a dead end.

His frustration is short lived and quickly melts into fear. In a bad, unfamiliar, part of town, amongst the people of Ikebukuro's underworld. Mikado is painfully aware of his fate if he finds himself unfortunate enough to stumble upon a bad situation. If it came to it, he couldn't win a fight and he couldn't rely on the Dollars.

He is not so wrapped up in his own trouble (though, really, night is falling way too fast) that he couldn't take the time to exacerbate his anxiety and imagine the poor fate of the vanished Masaomi. He couldn't help but picture him lying somewhere, beaten and broken, or tied up in somebody's basement, or maybe even kidnapped and sold into slavery. He the pace of his breathing is picking up as his thoughts become darker and darker. His imagination is running away, and dragging him across rough pavement behind it. He allows a brief moment to wonder when he'd become so morbid.

A loud clattering to the left pulls his attention from his his macabre thoughts. The muscles in his body coil and tense in a reaction more instinctual than intentional. He looks around not-quite-frantically for something to defend himself with, and nearly jumps out of his skin when the lid of a nearby trash can clangs to the pavement at his feet. A relieved sigh escapes his lips when the small furry head of a raccoon emerges from the waste bin. See? Nothing to worry about.

Mikado takes a moment to mentally berate himself before choosing a path between the crumbling graffitied walls. He finds himself looking upwards, to the sliver of sky he can make out between the tall buildings. It's shining the way it always does before a storm, creating an eerie atmosphere that has Mikado shivering and rubbing his arms. A loud crack of thunder has him increasing his pace, however fruitlessly.

The rain starts at a light drizzle, and as sudden as the flick of a light, the skies empty with waterfall like force. It doesn't take long for Mikado's clothes to be soaked through.

His feet carry him swiftly; he's stopped paying attention to where he is going, only looking for a place to shelter him from the bone-numbing chill of the rain. He rounds a corner and stops dead when finds the narrow passage occupied.

The taller, darker figure has the other, a scrawny, nervous looking man, pinned against the wall. Two heads are turned towards him upon his entrance, and Mikado briefly considers his chances of slipping back into the darkness of the alley behind him.

Not so great, he figures. He watches in slight horror as the taller figure moves their hand in a sharp jab at the other persons neck, and then he's sliding to the ground, unconscious. The remaining person rummages through their victim's pockets for a moment before turning to the petrified intruder at the mouth of the alley.

Mikado can't seem to force his feet to move as the figure approaches him, despite the overwhelming urge to run. The individual pulls something from their sleeve and a bright, slightly green, glow illuminates the space around the pair, allowing Mikado to see the curve of a motorcycle helmet, streaked with rain. The screen turns towards him and he's temporarily blinded by it's brightness.

Squinting, he manages to read the text on the screen before it is covered in droplets and streaks of rain.

_Mikado? What are you doing here?_

He blinks, and it takes one moment, then two before his tired brain is able to put two and one together. His blue eyes widen as the realization dawns on him.

“C-Celty?” He hadn't recognized the Dullahan before, obscured by the rain and overall gloom. He shakes his head at his foolishness. “I was just, uh...” It seems childish and stupid to say he was out looking for his missing friend who is probably completely fine. He laughs nervously. “I guess I just got a little lost.” The PDA is facing him again in mere seconds.

_Would you like a ride?_ Squinting through the darkness he can make out the form of her motorcycle, leaning against a wall. Mikado looks into her helmet. The rain is creating a slight mist about her head and shoulders. “Uh, yeah. Th-Thanks,” he gives her a wan yet grateful smile. “I'd really appreciate it.”

A helmet of shadows is placed on his head so quickly it's almost disorienting. He carefully stretches a leg over the dark shape of Celty's motorcycle. It's oddly warm beneath him. He locks his arms tightly around Celty and the bike takes off with a whinny.


	3. Chapter 3

Masaomi is brought to awareness by the cold prickling of icy water sliding down his face. The first droplet is soon joined by another, and another, and soon his already damp clothes are being soaked through, thoroughly chilling him, though cleansing him of some of the unpleasant stickiness.

He's brought the rest of the way into the consciousness when his stomach gives a particularly viscous throb. A hiss of pain escaped from between his clenched teeth.

Slitted gold eyes take in the grimy alleyway before sliding closed again. He can feel his breaths getting shallower. He knows that's anything but good, but he just can't bring himself to care because son-of-a- _fuck_ everything hurts just too damn much.

The cold rain is bothersome, causing aggressive tremors to run through his system, which in turn jars the pain in his stomach, the pain reassuring him it's here for the long haul.

The ever-present sounds of the city seem muted; it must either be late at night or he's in a more secluded part of the city. Or both. That or there's something wrong with his hearing on top of everything else. He takes a moment to mentally pat himself on the pack for holding himself together long enough to complete that thought.

With the cold precipitation biting at him on top of the ever-present agonizing pain in his stomach, he briefly entertains the thought of dying. He wonders if he'll be stranded in where-ever-the-fuck he is until he freezes or bleeds out. Which would be faster? Logic says the bleeding but the cold of the rain is certainly putting up a convincing argument. When he hears the distinctive sound of sneakers against wet pavement he considers a third option. Maybe he'll get lucky and someone will come along and put him out of his misery.

He is able to identify several pairs of feet coming towards him at a reckless speed. His maybe-not-so-impaired hearing tells him there almost upon him and-

Ooph!

White lights explode behind his eyes and his mouth opens in a silent scream he doesn't have the breath for, coming out as a pathetic wheeze. He folds himself over as far as he can in his restricted position. His abdomen sings with pain.

The body of the person who ran into him, toe directly to the spot that housed his most intense pain, is currently sprawled across the wet asphalt, his legs over Masaomi's body.

“Aw man, what the fuck?” The husky voice comes from above, one of the runners who managed to stop before reaching Masaomi. Which is all as well because whether he could or not, be didn't want to survive another blow to his stomach like that.

“What the hell man?” This comes from the hooligan sprawled across the young blond as he slowly retracts his legs and rights himself.

“Man is that your blood?” The third voices sounds panicky, but Masaomi's focus on the conversation is waning. He wonders if he could smack his head into the concrete hard enough to render him unconscious. He can already feel the effects of what he recognizes to be blood loss taking a toll on him.

And then he can feel someone touching his face. Grabbing onto his chin and tilting his head. He hasn't any idea what these ruffians intend to do with him, now that they've acknowledged his presense, but he doesn't have the energy to muster an appropriate emotional reaction

His eyes slide open the smallest amount, and he is barely able to make out a blurry face before they close again.

“Shogun? Aw shit man.” Masaomi can't bring himself to respond, or to even decide if it's a good or bad thing that he's been discovered by one of his scarves in his current state.

It's probably a bad thing.

The voices are discussing something in an urgent tone, and it takes him longer than it should to realize it's him. They're voices are starting to seem warbled, and he can feel the voice of unconsciousness calling to him like a siren.

The cloth is removed from his mouth. How had he not realized how dry his mouth was? His tongue was heavy and numb in his mouth, making swallowing impossible.

There's shifting around him, and then tension that he wasn't even entirely aware of is released around his legs and arms, signifying the release of whatever had been restricting his movements. He uses this new found freedom to curl himself into a tight defensive ball.

The voices around him are beginning to sound like they're coming from under water, and Masaomi is beginning to feel almost as if he's floating out of his body. He can scarcely hear something being mentioned about a hospital before a loud protest of “NO” brought him more fully into awareness. Something about uncomfortable questions?

“I know a guy,” it's rumbled from above, but with the way thoughts seem to be sliding out of his head, as if tilted at some odd angle, it doesn't really mean much to Masaomi.

Nothing meant much to Masaomi in his current situation, nothing but ceasing the pounding in his head and the pain in his stomach that seamed to resonate with each beat of his heart. That is, nothing meant much to Masaomi until he felt himself being moved.

He didn't even try to stifle the pained hiss that slid between his teeth as he was lifted into someone's arms and held against their chest. He can hear a heart beating against his ear that syncopates with the pounding in his head in a painful melody.

And when he starts moving dear god he is sure he's going to die. It hurts too much. This is the end for him. Goodbye cruel world and all that, if he'd had more the mind to make jokes.

But he doesn't die. He is hurried though the winding roads of the city, the street lights above flashing periodically above, temporarily blinding him every few moments and sending a shock of pain through his aching skull.

The voices around him are dulling to a buzz, and he can feel the world around him growing fuzzy, his senses blunting. He falls gracefully back into the arms of unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry about the long wait. Life's been royally kicking my ass lately.

The slick pavement glistens with rain as it speeds under the wheels of Celty's bike. Mikado clings to the rider, and his thoughts of his missing friend. As much as he tries to, he can't remove the image of Masaomi hurt and alone from his mind, his thoughts getting progressively more grim.

He gives himself a physical shake, more to dislodge the frightening thoughts than the raindrops collecting in the creases of his jacket and across his shoulders. The dullahan turns slightly to look at him, but is soon distracted by the cheery jingly emitting from the hand-held device in her sleeve. She slides it against her empty helmet with one hand and continues driving with the other. The quick one-sided conversation has her changing the direction of their path, and she glances back at Mikado before accelerating.

Mikado is puzzled, but he trusts Celty and simply bends his head further against the harsh cold of the rain.

It isn't long before the bike is making the turn into the apartment complex Mikado has come to know as Celty's home, shared with the strange but charming Doctor Kishitani. He was more than certain there was something between them beyond friendship, but that was for another time- a time when he wasn't drenched through completely and having involuntary, gut-wrenching visions of his closest friend in mortal peril.

They dismount and Celty pats the bike gently, earning a content whinny, before whipping her PDA out and beginning to type. Mikado leans forward to read the screen as it is turned towards him.

_Sorry, Shinra has some unsavory guests. He'd like my help convincing them to leave. It sounded kind of important.._ _._ She wiped the screen before turning it back again.  _I'll take you home when they're gone._

"Oh, that's okay," Mikado says as he followed Celty into the building. "It's really cold at my place when it rains. Poorly insulated and all. I don't really mind. And this is probably more important than taking me home, plus it's raining so much and so hard, the roads are probably not the safest right now." He finds himself rambling but he can't seem to stop and his silent companion doesn't seem much bothered by it. He can't bring his mind away from the probably-totally-awful state of his missing friend. He shakes his head in an effort to clear the nasty thoughts. Masaomi's absence was really starting to take a toll on him. It was like when he'd left Saitama all over again. Except this time without the certainty that he was ok and just farther away.

He really misses the certainty.

Celty pushes open the door to her flat and they're greeted by a wall of yellow clad bodies, backs towards them. A head turns at the sound of their entrance.

"Okay, whoa. We'll leave, no biggie. No need to bring the black rider into this." More gang members turn and look at Celty, who must seem intimidating, judging by their reactions.

"The rider? Shit man, I'm out."

"Yeah, let's go." And the yellow scarves are filing out, keeping wary eyes on the Dullahan as they pass. The last one pauses at the door. "Just, let us know, ok Doc?" He calls back.

"Sure, sure," Shinra's faint voice comes from further back in the apartment.

_He must have a patient_ _._ Celty turns her PDA towards him. That explains the gang members. Gang violence. Mikado grimaces, and takes a moment to appreciate the simplicity of the online world of his own gang. Celty makes her way towards the back room and Mikado trails behind at a respectable distance, curiosity overtaking him.

Dr. Kishitani has a mask pulled up over his lower face and a suture in his hand. There's red on a cloth that was obviously used to wipe blood away from the still-bloody body in front of him. He looks to the IV- probably a pain killer or anesthetic of some kind- before looking up further at the motionless figure and-

Oh no.

Oh no no nonononono.

No no no. No. But Mikado looks at his friend, bloody and unconscious- perhaps it's the dreadful lighting that bleaches the color from his skin, that must be it- and the constant reassuring himself of Masaomi's safety is rendered completely useless, because he gets a good look at his friend and sees he is absolutely most certainly  _not fine._

Mikado didn't even realize he'd begun to hyperventilate, and he wonders vaguely when he ended up sitting on the floor. Celty crouches in front of him, but he can't seem to focus enough to read the screen before his face. His head is in his hands now and all he can think about is the blood the blood the  _blood_. So red on his friend-  _his best friend_ -'s pale skin.

Kishitani-sensei's voice comes to him like he's underwater; the words are garbled and stripped of meaning. There's tugging and Celty has pulled him to his feet, pulled him from the room with the blood, blood blood so much blood. Masaomi's blood.

He feels light headed.

He's sitting on a couch in the front room, but his mind is still in the back room with his friend. His heart is pounding and though his eyes are fine he can't seem to see properly.

Celty's glowing screen is in front of him, but he just can't read it. His eyes are fine, they're fine, he's sure they're fine, but his brain isn't interpreting the images being sent to it. His breath is catching in his lungs and staying trapped there.

And Celty is shaking him. He looks at the face of the PDA she is shoving into his face and he blinks slowly, once, twice, until the words come into focus. It's just his name, Mikado, with a line of exclamation points behind it.

For a second he's forgotten how to speak, his heart is in his throat. He swallows thickly, forcing it back into place in his breast. He takes a few shaky breaths in an effort to calm himself before looking up to Celty again.

"I-i'm sorry," he took another deep breath.

_Are you okay?_

He doesn't really know. He shakes his head in a lie.

_Do you know him?_

Mikado's hand moves to the back of his neck. "Um, yeah." Man, his mouth is so dry. "That's my friend." He struggles to swallow the lump in his throat. "H-he's been missing." He trails off as he is bombarded with images of his friend as he'd seen him -was it really only moments ago? -pale and covered in sticky red. He suppresses the urge to shiver.

He looks out the glass door to the dark sky beyond the balcony. It's completely black now, and the storm rages on, the wind howling and the startling booms of thunder growing in frequency.

He looks away from the window when Celty turns her screen towards him again.

_Do you have any idea what happened to him?_

Mikado slowly shakes his head and brings his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. What could've happened to him? Was it the yellow scarves? But they wouldn't have brought him to a doctor, if that's who they were even here about in the first place.

Mikado sighs shakily and wonders what's going on in the other room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the worst. I am the worst and I'm sorry. I hope there are still a few of you out there who are interested in my way too late update. On the bright side I'm hoping to wrap it up relatively soon.

The door swings open.  
  
Mikado feels his insides twisting into knots as he catches sight of the doctor's furrowed eyebrows.  
  
Shinra turns to him. “Mikado, do you know that kid?” The curiosity in his voice has the teenager quaking. He was well aware of the sort of thing that piqued Shinra's curiosity, and he hardly manages to nod.  
  
“Could you come with me for a second then? I just have a quick question.” Mikado's knees are shaking as he stands from the couch and for a moment he thinks he's going to make another unexpected trip to the floor before he steadies himself and follows the doctor towards the door.  
  
Why does a simple slab of wood seem so foreboding?  
  
It's because Mikado knows what hides behind it.   
  
Blood blood there had been so much blood. How could someone live after losing that much? And Masaomi, he had been so pale. Deathly pale.  
  
Oh god. He's dead isn't he? To think, Mikado had worried all evening if his friend was still with the living, and yet it had seemed such a shallow fear because  _of course_  he was, to think that these fear addled delusions had come true, it made him want to sink to the floor and violently sob. The closer Mikado gets to the room where he _knows_ his friend is probably laying cold and lifeless on Shinra's operating table the faster his pulse is jumping. It throbs throughout his entire body. He prepared himself to come to terms with the fact that his friend, his  _best_  friend, is probably already gone. This is what Shinra wanted to ask about isn't it? He wants to ask if he can dissect Masaomi's dead body in the name of science.  
  
He steps into the room and does his best to look anywhere,  _anywhere_ , but the darkening blood on the floor and the table and  _oh god it's everywhere_. There's no where safe to look.  
  
His heart is in his throat and he can't find his lungs and the room is growing smaller. Growing smaller until it crushes him and all he can hear is his heartbeat echoing off the cramped walls and the inside of his skull.  
  
And then Mikado feels a hand on his shoulder, a voice from underwater becomes clearer as he's grounded.  
  
“Are you alright?” It's only with the third repetition of the phrase that the question registers with him, but he manages a hollow nod.  
  
The look Shinra gives him is a dubious one, but he retracts his hand.  
  
“Does your friend have any heart condition that you know of?” The question throws Mikado. Realistically, that's a pretty standard question for a doctor to ask about a patient. But wasn't it obvious the problem wasn't with his heart? It was with the way he was  _bleeding_  so much.   
  
“W-What?”   
  
“A heart condition? Or maybe some kind of brain irregularity?”  
  
“What? N-no, he has nothing like that.”  
  
“Hm, no that wouldn't make sense either.” He mutters to himself then turns toward the blond on the table, where Mikado had been trying to avoid looking.   
  
Masaomi looks much better without all the blood smeared across him, but he's still paler than a ghost and breathing (He's  _breathing_ ) shallowly.  
  
Mikado strangles a whimper in his throat before it has a chance to surface.  
  
Shinra pulls the sheet back from Masaomi's bare torso, letting it rest around his hips. He pints to a straight pink line of stitching.  
  
“This here is what I just did, it looked like it had been stitched recently and tore open, but that's not the most interesting thing.” His glasses glint and Mikado feels a shudder chasing itself up his spine, chills erupting across his body.  
  
“Look here,” The doctor points to another place on Masaomi's abdomen, near his hip. Even Mikado can tell it's  _wrong, wrong, so **so** wrong_.

The glint of metal against his skin, over a swell, a shape, that  _just shouldn't be there_.  
  
His stomach had dropped somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes and he has to grip the edge of the table to stay upright. Despite this he cannot bring his eyes to look away.  
  
After swallowing thickly and spending several agonizing seconds trying to regain control of his tongue he manages to choke out a shakey “W-what the _hell_ is that?"  
  
Shinra just seems a little too gleeful as he turns his head to face him. “Well why don't we find out?” He lifts his scalpel and the dangerous glint from the reflective metal matches the glint in his eyes.  
  
Before there is a chance to ask what he means or if that really is the best idea the blade is descending on his friend and sweeping across the disturbing mystery.  
  
A tear of blood weeps out and Mikado can hardly imagine Masaomi has any more he can afford to lose, but the beading red is wiped away before he has much of a chance to pursue the thought. Shinra peels the pale skin away from the protrusion like the curtain to their own personal horror story.  
  
His stomach churns restlessly as gloved fingers probe inside the bloody pocket and slowly and gently pulling out some grey  _thing_. The blood and skin cling to it as if reluctant give it up and Mikado's grip tightens in the white sheets, surely wrinkly them beyond the smoothing abilities of even the best iron. Mikado is awake but this is surely a nightmare, because he can see the tiny light on the mechanical trinket that Shinra turns in his hands and it sounds like he's at the wrong end of a call with poor reception as the doctor says, “It looks like some sort of tracking device.”  
  
Suddenly Mikado can feel his lunch making a second appearance as he leans over and retches. His breathing has quickened once again and this time the edges of his vision are fading to a dark that he can't seem to blink away. The floor pitches beneath him and he waits, fully expecting to forcefully introduce his face to the tile, but he is steadied by a pair of strong arms just as the rest of his consciousness leaves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... I feel like a lot of people forget that Shinra is the sort of person who dissected the woman he loved as a FOUR YEAR OLD


End file.
